


House Special

by h0ldthiscat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ldthiscat/pseuds/h0ldthiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thought she’d been about to say I love you. He knows she does, that she’ll say it when she wants to, but something about the thought of hearing her say it, here, on the floor of his living room as she’s about to eat a stupid baked potato is so perfect that he can’t wipe the smile off his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Special

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for an anon on my tumblr for the one-word prompt "potato."

He’s never disliked cooking. In fact, the few times he’s stood over the stove adding ingredients in varying intuitive increments to a boiling pot, he’s quite enjoyed it. But cooking takes time, and there are other things he’d rather spend time on. Namely, the woman who now sits on his couch, looking uncharacteristically relaxed with her feet up on the coffee table and a hand ruffling through her hair as she flips through the TV Guide and points and flexes her feet to the tune of some song in her head. 

“This is the Mulder house special,” he says from the kitchen, looking through cabinets for the good plates, the ones that don’t have irremovable stains or hairline cracks. 

“Oh boy,” Scully teases from the living room, looking up to meet him with a smirk. 

“Don’t count me out before I’ve even started.” The microwave dings and he thinks he hears her say, “Never,” but he’s not sure. 

He enters the living room balancing three plates, two laid out on his right arm like a server, the other teetering slightly in his left. 

“Potatoes?” Scully asks, raising an eyebrow as she migrates to the floor, where he joins her.

“Not just any potatoes. The famous Mulder baked potato. Complete with--” He gestures to the third plate, adorned with mini ramekins filled with toppings. “--bacon bits, sour cream, scallions, some very fancy shredded cheese, salsa, and diced tomatoes.”

She is beaming at him, a sight that he’s seen much more of in the last month since things changed, a sight that he will never tire of, a sight that he’s come to know means home. 

“I love it,” she says, picking up her fork and poking holes in the parchment-colored belly of the potato. 

His stomach drops, because for a second--he doesn’t know why, they’ve only been together for a month for god’s sake--but for a moment he thought--god, he’s so stupid--he thought she’d been about to say I love you. 

He knows she does, that she’ll say it when she wants to, but something about the thought of hearing her say it, here, on the floor of his living room as she’s about to eat a stupid baked potato is so perfect that he can’t wipe the smile off his face.

“What?” she asks, her tongue between her teeth like she’s biting back a giggle. 

Mulder wants to say it, wants to have it tattooed on his forehead and painted on the walls, but he’s said it once before and her response had been less than ideal, so he can wait. Instead, he says something else that’s true, “You look really pretty, Scully.”

She looks down, surprised that he seems to find her jeans and cream sweater interesting enough for comment, and then rises to her knees and leans across the coffee table and kisses him hard, her palms flat against his cheeks, and he thinks he will never tire of the taste of her. He reaches up to rest his hand on her throat, but his fingers tangle in the chain of her necklace so he is left clutching it like a beadless rosary, praying to St. Jude who at some point in the last month decided he wasn’t a lost cause after all. 

“What was that for?” he asks when she pulls away, eyes myopic and mouth red. 

“It’s very nice to hear you say that,” she says simply, and she is the sun.


End file.
